


The Meanest Flower

by emynn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 20:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus has always been Harry's protector, and Harry has needed plenty of protecting over the years. But when Harry comes down with a life-threatening illness, Severus is suddenly out of his league. The odds are against them, but that doesn't matter. As always, Severus would do whatever it takes to save Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meanest Flower

**Title:** The Meanest Flower  
 **Author:** [](http://emynn.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**emynn**](http://emynn.dreamwidth.org/)  
 **Other pairings/threesome:** Ron/Hermione  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 18,267  
 **Content/Warning(s):** (highlight for spoilers) * EWE, illness, established relationship*  
 **Prompt:** #43 - Established relationship--Harry comes down with a life-threatening illness. Severus must seek out Petunia (and/or Dudley) as Harry's closest blood relative for a blood transfusion/bone marrow transplant/Wizarding illness cure/etc as it's the one chance he has to save Harry.  
 **Summary:** Severus has always been Harry's protector, and Harry has needed plenty of protecting over the years. But when Harry comes down with a life-threatening illness, Severus is suddenly out of his league. The odds are against them, but that doesn't matter. As always, Severus would do whatever it takes to save Harry.  
 **A/N:** What can I say, this prompt bit me and refused to let go. Whoever came up with it, you have my thanks. Yay Snarry! Thank you a million times to HBP for all of your brilliant beta work and for being my sounding board more times than I can count.

 

  
** The Meanest Flower **   


Severus peered out his study window and looked to the sky. The storm had come on quickly, and Harry wasn’t home yet. Severus hoped that Harry would display a modicum of common sense and Apparate home from his day out with the Weasleys rather than fly, but common sense had never been his strong suit. Even in his thirties, he was still the same stubborn, reckless boy who felt he was as invincible to harm as he was in his youth. But now it was even more dangerous because he had captured Severus’s heart as well. What was once his token duty to keep Harry safe in honour of Lily’s memory had become a personal obligation that Severus took more seriously than guarding his own life. And given Harry’s occupation as an Auror, and his tendency to land himself in St. Mungo’s on a fairly regular basis, Severus stayed very busy.

Relief flooded through his chest when a dark speck in the distance came closer and took shape. Harry hadn’t Apparated, but at least he was within eyesight. Severus hurried downstairs to greet him, grabbing a towel from the linen closet on his way.

Harry was already inside, hair plastered to his head and dripping water on the floor. He was stepping out of his boots when he caught sight of Severus. “Hello,” he said. “Nasty weather out there.”

Severus rolled his eyes and reached out to remove Harry’s shirt. “When will you ever learn?” he asked, not expecting an answer. He dropped the saturated garment to the floor and began to towel Harry dry. “You could have gotten yourself killed. The winds already nearly took down the elm in the back.”

“I like flying in the rain,” Harry said. “I was fine. Besides, how else am I going to get you to strip off my clothes the second I walk through the door?”

“Prat,” Severus muttered. “If you think I’m going to reward your foolhardiness with a blowjob then you have another think coming.”

Harry grabbed Severus’s hands and pulled him close to him. “I’m fine,” he repeated, and gifted Severus with a long, slow kiss. “You worry too much.”

Severus sighed and cradled Harry’s head against his shoulder. Feeling Harry’s heart beating against his chest, he felt a little ridiculous for being so afraid. Harry had flown in plenty of storms before and never emerged with any injuries more serious than a broken bone or three. Still, it was difficult to tamp down the icy fear that overcame him whenever he thought of a life without Harry.

“Somebody has to,” he finally said, not taking his fingers out from Harry’s damp hair.

“It’s okay, you know,” Harry said. He pressed his lips to Severus’s shoulder. “I know it’s because you love me.”

Severus squeezed Harry one last time before pulling back. “Rather perceptive of you, Mister Potter.”

Harry smiled at him and Severus felt his insides clench. That was his favourite of Harry’s smiles – that special one that was achingly blinding but somehow shy and filled with what Severus had recently learned was love. Harry reserved it strictly for him, and it was Severus’s most precious possession.

“I know you,” Harry said. “Now, how about we go upstairs? I can think of a more pleasurable way for you to warm me up while also proving to you that I’m very much alive with no life-threatening injuries as a result of my recklessness.”

Severus chuckled. “One-track mind. How do you know I wasn’t in the middle of a volatile experiment?”

“Because you knew I’d be back home at six, and you’re always watching for me to … Severus, what’s wrong?”

Severus reached out and touched a mark on Harry’s shoulder. It was the same size and colour of a love bite, but he hadn’t left the mark there. Harry’s eyes followed his hand.

“Oh, that,” Harry said. “I woke up with it this morning. Not sure where it came from.”

Severus frowned. “You don’t remember how it got there? It’s an unusual place to bruise.”

“It’s just a bruise, Severus,” Harry said. “Maybe it’s from yesterday’s raid and it just didn’t show up until today.”

Severus prodded the bruise. “Does that hurt?”

“It hurts like it would if somebody was deliberately poking a bruise,” Harry said drily. “Are you finished?”

Severus dropped his hand from Harry’s chest to his hand and held on to it. “Yes. My reaction was likely extreme. My apologies.”

Harry raised Severus’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “It’s fine. I just don’t want you to worry yourself into a heart attack. I worry about you too, you know.”

Severus snorted. “Ridiculous. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got my Auror certificate saying I am as well, but does that stop you?”

“Well, they’re idiots,” Severus said, and began undoing Harry’s flies. “They don’t realize you need somebody to take care of you.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, a habit he had picked up from Severus. “Oh, I do, do I?”

“Yes,” Severus said. He let Harry’s trousers drop to the floor and began to slowly fist his already hardening prick. “Well, perhaps you _could_ take care of yourself, but it would be nowhere near as enjoyable.”

Harry groaned and arched up into Severus’s touch. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Severus said. They were not words that came easily to him, more often in the heat of passion when he felt entirely unconstrained, but Harry deserved to hear them. Especially when Severus was acting like a paranoid git.

Really, he should do it more often. One, for Harry’s benefit, but also because it meant he’d be graced with that special smile again.

“Well, come on then, Severus,” Harry said, and began pulling Severus towards the stairs. “I’m ready to be taken care of now.”

Severus allowed Harry to lead him up the stairs to their bedroom. Perhaps Harry was a bit overly reckless, and perhaps he was an obsessive worrier. But, for whatever reason, they worked together, and Severus would be damned if he ever gave that up.

~*~

  
“I was thinking of taking a week or two off,” Harry said the next morning over breakfast. “We’re overdue for a holiday. Think you can leave the apothecary in Blaise’s hands for a while?”

“I could,” Severus agreed. “Where were you thinking?”

“Someplace warm,” Harry said immediately. “I’m so tired of the cold and rain. I just want to get away for a bit. Sleep on the sand in the sun, make love under the stars …”

“Get sand in between your arse cheeks, more like,” Severus said. “But a holiday might be nice. Blaise has been going on about his holiday in Thailand.”

“Mmm, Thailand,” Harry sighed happily. “Sounds perfect. How about in a month? That should give us time to plan.”

“I’ll let Blaise know,” Severus said. He glanced at the clock. “You’re running late.”

Harry swore under his breath and got out of his seat. “See, this is why I need a holiday. Took me forever to get out of bed and now I’m going to end up having to stay late to finish the paperwork I was planning on doing this morning.”

Severus snorted. “Perhaps if you hadn’t demanded ‘lazy early morning sex’ you would have been on time.”

“Shut it, Snape,” Harry said, the harshness of his words belied by the kiss he placed on Severus’s cheek. “I’ll be back by seven.”

“Hmm. Take some toast with you. You’ve barely eaten.”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said, pulling his Auror robes on. “Not really hungry.”

Severus frowned. “Harry …”

“I’ll grab something at the café,” Harry said. “Promise. And you can make an enormous dinner tonight if you want and I’ll be sure to eat it all.”

“I see what you did there,” Severus said. “Reassure me by having me agree to slave over a hot stove after a long day of dealing with the public.”

“Subtlety was never my strong point,” Harry said. He gave Severus one last kiss, a longer one on the lips, and headed to the Floo. “Love you.”

He was gone before Severus could respond.

Severus tried not to dwell on his concerns as he went about cleaning up the kitchen. He’d found several more bruises on Harry’s body both last night and this morning. Harry could have been correct in that they were just slow to show, but there was something nagging at the back of Severus’s mind that gave him pause.

He shook his head. He needed to stop being so paranoid. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate Harry with his obsessive worrying. If Harry said it was just minor wounds from a raid, and that he was only tired because he needed a holiday, and he’d eat a big supper later, then he needed to trust him.

Damn it, but relationships were bloody complicated.

Severus could still scarcely believe he was in a relationship with Harry. They had bumped into each other, quite literally, in Diagon Alley six years ago. The collision had caused the phials Severus had just purchased to shatter, and to make it up to him, Harry had insisted on buying him a drink in addition to replacement equipment. The next day, when Harry fire-called him to say he took one of Severus’s bags by mistake, Severus found himself inviting him to dinner.

The rest, as they say, was history.

That was not to say they had an easy go of it. They were both stubborn and passionate, which could lead to bitter shouting matches. Severus discovered he had a jealous streak where Harry was concerned, which, when saddled with his insecurities and inability to trust, slowed down the progression of their relationship. Harry, for his part, still felt nothing of sweeping in to the rescue, even if there were others to do the rescuing. He was also much more sociable than Severus, and occasionally resented it when Severus didn’t want to join him and his friends for drinks every week.

But somehow, they made it work. In Harry, Severus found a man who loved him for all that he was, darkness and all. Harry was his rock, his greatest defender, and, if Severus was feeling particularly sentimental, the greatest love of his life.

It didn’t hurt that he was bloody gorgeous as well.

Severus wasn’t entirely sure what Harry saw in him, but he had long since given up arguing. He was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if Harry said he wanted to be with him, he would damn well agree. Perhaps one day Harry would come to his senses and realize he could do far better than a former Death Eater turned apothecary owner, but until then, Severus was going to do everything he could to keep Harry happy.

He glanced at the clock – he still had another hour before he had to be at the apothecary. Perhaps he could make a quick trip to the market to pick up some food for supper that night. They would need their sustenance as they began planning their holiday in Thailand.

~*~

  
Severus was just taking the pot roast out of the oven when he heard the telltale sound of Harry stumbling out of the Floo. It still boggled his mind that Harry had yet to manage the art of exiting a Floo at least _somewhat_ gracefully, even after two decades of living as a wizard. He set down the roast and went to greet Harry in the parlour.

Harry looked up at him from the floor. “Hey, Severus.”

“What in Merlin's name happened to you?” Severus asked, hurrying to help Harry up.

“Just your typical nutter in Knockturn,” Harry said. He attempted to smile but with his lips bloodied and bruised, it looked more like a grimace. “Felt he'd been cheated and decided to hex everybody in the shop. Wouldn't go down without a fight.”

Severus carefully held Harry up with one arm while using the other to cast diagnostic spells. “Well, at least there are no broken bones,” he muttered. “Although I believe you have a concussion. And they let you just _leave_ like this? You could have had internal bleeding!”

“You can save your rant on the ineptitude of the Aurors' Healers and safety protocol for another day,” Harry said. “They wanted to keep me but I refused.”

“You refused,” Severus repeated, guiding Harry to sit down in a chair. “And why ever did you do that?”

“Because I know you love to take care of me.”

“Flirting won't get you out of this, Potter,” Severus said. “You need to take your safety more seriously. You think you can honestly look at me with that black eye and just bat your eyelashes -- ”

Harry grasped Severus's hand. “As soon as I realized it was more than a scrape the first thing I did was make a run for a Floo. I _am_ looking after my safety, Severus.” He squeezed Severus's hand. “I feel safest with you.”

Severus sighed. How was it even when he wanted to strangle Harry most – namely, when he scared him half to death by falling through the Floo a bruised, bloody mess – he knew exactly how to calm him? He should be the one assuaging Harry’s concerns now, and instead Harry was the one soothing him.

He was a fucking mess.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll get the bandages and pain potions. Not that you deserve the latter, you miserable whelp.”

“Love you too,” Harry said.

Severus quickly returned with the supplies. With all of Harry’s frequent injuries, he had taken to keeping the necessities in nearly every room in the house. Not saying a word, he set about healing the wounds he could with his wand and then bandaging the rest. Once he was satisfied that Harry wasn’t about to start to spontaneously haemorrhage, he handed him a pain-killing potion.

“It’s a light one,” he said. “I’d prefer not to give you anything stronger until I’ve had some time to monitor your injuries.”

“I know. Thank you, Severus. I knew you’d take better care of me than those Healers.” He sniffed. “Is that pot roast?”

“It is,” Severus confirmed. “But I suppose you won’t be able to handle it right now.”

“I wish. It smells amazing, but my jaw’s still a bit tender,” Harry said, rubbing his face.

“Hmph,” Severus said. “Well if your jaw is too sore for supper, it’s also too sore for any carnal activities.”

Harry snorted. “Now who’s the one with the one-track mind?” He pulled Severus close to him. “But I think I can still manage to kiss you, even like this.” He brushed his lips with just the barest of touches against Severus’s. “Mmm. See? Not bad at all. Well worth the pain.”

Severus allowed himself one more peck before pulling himself up. “I appreciate your sacrifice. But I must tear myself away from you for a minute to prepare you a more suitable meal. Broth for you it is.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you nearly got yourself killed again,” Severus said.

He wasn’t gone more than ten minutes, but when he returned to the parlour Harry was fast asleep, his head resting upon his shoulder. Frowning, Severus set aside the broth and felt Harry’s forehead. He was slightly warm, but that could also be from all the healing spells still circulating through his body. More than likely, he was just worn out from a long day.

“What am I going to do with you, Harry?” Severus asked as he carefully lifted Harry into his arms and began to carry him up the stairs. “You’ll turn me into an old man if you keep this up much longer. I don’t know why I let you abuse me as such.”

Harry didn’t respond, but it was no matter.

He already knew the answer.

~*~

  
Severus rolled over in bed and groaned. Even without opening his eyes, he could tell it was earlier than when he usually woke Harry for work. He doubted he'd be able to fall back asleep, but he at least could be comfortable as he rested.

But when he moved to be closer to Harry, he frowned. The sheets were sticky and damp, and he could have sworn Harry had removed all traces of their lovemaking the previous night. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

Immediately, he wondered if he had instead woken up to a nightmare.

“Harry,” he said, shaking him awake. “You're bleeding. Wake up.”

“Wha? Sev'rus?”

Severus grabbed one of the sheets and began using it to wipe away some of the blood on Harry's chest. It would have been much easier to use his wand, but given that the magically healed wounds had reopened, he didn't want to risk using magic again in case it caused more damage.

“Ugh,” said Harry, more awake now. He started to sit up. “That's a right mess. I'm sorry. I'll clean the sheets as soon as I take a shower.”

“Like hell you will,” Severus snapped. He grabbed a pillow to put behind Harry to prop him up and reached for the bandages Harry had always made fun of him for keeping in his bedside table. “Just sit there a moment.”

Severus made quick work of seeing to Harry's wounds. It appeared as though two of the deepest cuts, a gash on the side of his chest and one on his back, had reopened. He wasn't bleeding as much as Severus had originally thought, which was a relief. Much more troubling was the fact the wounds had reopened at all. Severus knew his healing spells were sound. There was no reason a perfectly healthy wizard should be bleeding after employing them.

“You're seeing a Healer today,” Severus said once he was done. “As soon as one is available, if not earlier. There are several individuals at St. Mungo’s who owe me favours.”

“Severus, I have work,” Harry said. He threw off the sheets and got out of bed. “What am I going to say? 'Sorry, can't come in today, I'm bleeding a bit'? I'd be laughed out of the office.”

“You're thinking like a Muggle,” Severus said. “With the healing spells and potions, wounds like the ones you have should have been completely healed overnight. To have them reopen is likely a sign that something is wrong.”

“I feel fine,” Harry insisted. “Honestly, Severus. You can run any diagnostic spell on me you want. All that's wrong with me is a couple of cuts reopened. Maybe you just missed a spot or something.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You don't just 'miss a spot' when you're healing wounds.”

“Well, you might!”

“Harry,” Severus said with a sigh.

Harry walked over to Severus's side of the bed and sat next to him. “Listen,” he said, pulling Severus close to him. “I know you've always protected me. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. But Severus, you can't worry so much about every little thing that goes wrong with me. I'm only human. I'm going to get scratched up every once in a while and I'm going to get sick. That's normal.”

“Harry, I'm only concerned – ”

“I know you're concerned,” Harry said. “And I know it's because you love me. But honestly, Severus, if I actually _did_ think there was something wrong, I'd be first in line at St. Mungo's. Because contrary to whatever you might think, I don't want to get myself killed and leave you all alone either.”

“I never said I think you _want_ to get yourself killed,” Severus pointed out. “Only that you seem to be very good at putting yourself in situations where you _could_ get killed.”

Harry laughed. “Technicalities. Now, let’s make a deal. I’ll go to work, and I promise I’ll do my best to stay out of death’s grip. Hell, I’m still behind in paperwork. If it makes you feel any better, today I’ll just do that. You’ll stop worrying so much. And if I even feel so much as a cold coming on, I’ll go see a Healer straight away. Deal?”

Severus sighed. “Harry, you have to understand. I don’t mean to be overbearing or tedious in my concern, or make you feel as though I’m smothering you. There have been precious few people in my life that I’ve held dear, and I’ve already lost them all. And while I survived those losses, the thought of anything happening to you … I fear it would be more than I can bear.”

“I know, Severus, and I feel the same way about you,” Harry said. “Do you think I don’t worry about you on the days when I know you’re working on a volatile potion, or when you go to Knockturn?”

“Ridiculous,” Severus snorted.

“Cauldron, meet kettle,” Harry said drily. “Point is, whether you like it or not, I have every intention of staying around for a very long time. I’m anticipating a lot of old, wrinkly sex in our future. I may have a dangerous job, and bad luck does have a tendency to follow me, and yeah, there have been times I probably put myself in more danger than I should have. But I take my safety seriously. I take those dreams of growing old together seriously, Severus, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize them.”

“If I had known you had a fetish for old man bollocks, I would have contemplated ingesting an Ageing Potion,” Severus muttered.

Harry laughed and gave Severus a kiss. “Let’s not rush anything. Now, I’ve got to get to work. How about tonight we go out for supper and then afterwards I prove to you just how very much alive I am?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I have no fear of your libido ever dying.”

“Even as a wrinkly old man,” Harry said happily.

Severus couldn’t help but smile. The wounds reopening still worried him, but he trusted Harry. Realistically speaking, the odds of losing him to some freak accident or random illness were far less than driving him away being excessively overprotective. He would just continue to keep his potions stores well stocked and his cabinets filled with bandages.

“I’ll see you tonight for supper, Mister Potter. Your treat.”

~*~

  
A week later, Severus had almost entirely convinced himself that the bleeding incident was simply a fluke. Harry was practically the very picture of health. He was eating normally, staying active, and was very eager to prove every night to Severus just how very much alive he was. He might have been a bit run down, but that was nothing their holiday to Thailand wouldn’t fix. Being an Auror was exhausting, Severus knew, and would take its toll on anybody.

Then, while giving Teddy a few tips on Quidditch, Harry slipped from his broom.

It was just the barest movement, and Harry caught himself quickly. Teddy likely didn’t even notice. But Severus watched in horror as Harry regained his balance. Even from the ground, he could tell that Harry was shaken. He rushed forward, wand at the ready, in case Harry should fall.

“Harry!” he shouted.

Harry had already begun his descent. His broom hadn’t even touched the ground before he was jumping to get off of it. Severus reached for him immediately, alarmed by the way Harry collapsed into his arms.

“Something’s wrong,” Harry whispered into Severus’s chest. “Severus … "

“Shh,” Severus said. “Can you walk?”

Harry nodded. “Hold me?”

Severus wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and began walking him to the house.

“What’s wrong with him?” Teddy asked as he descended. “He seemed fine up there.”

“Teddy, run ahead and fire-call St. Mungo’s,” Severus ordered. “Tell them it’s an emergency. I’m taking Harry to the first floor guest room.”

After making sure Teddy was hurrying appropriately, Severus returned his attention to Harry. His face was pale and his eyes had a wild, panicked look in them. “Are you in pain?”

Harry shook his head. “Just dizzy and a bit achy. And I feel like they’ve been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx.”

Severus tightened his grip around Harry’s waist. He had seen something like this coming. All the signs were there.

He just had never been less pleased to be right in his life.

~*~

  
“Any you experiencing any pain, Mister Potter? Head, joints, stomach?”

Harry shook his head and clutched Severus's hand. “Not really. Just weak. I feel a bit like I have the flu.” He looked up at the Healer. “Do I have the flu?”

“Possibly,” replied Healer Dawson, but Severus could tell he didn't believe it. “I'll need to run a few more tests. I'll have to go to St. Mungo's to analyze these samples. I should be able to get the results to you by Monday morning at the latest.”

“I have a workroom here,” Severus said immediately. “It was designed to function at the same standards as any laboratory at St. Mungo's. You will run the tests here.”

“I understand your concern, Mister Snape,” said Dawson, “but that's really not the established protocol, no matter how state-of-the-art the workroom is.”

“You will run the tests here,” Severus repeated, his voice low.

“Mister Snape ...”

“I will have you know that I am the sole provider of several critical potions St. Mungo's receives,” Severus said. “Including some of which I am the only person in this hemisphere who knows how to brew. If you elect not to use my perfectly suitable workroom to run your damn tests, I'm afraid I will have no choice but to suddenly forget how to make said potions. And I will make very sure to let St. Mungo's know who the imbecile is who prompted me to lose my memory.”

Dawson paled. He wasn't one of Severus's former students and clearly hadn't been anticipating this sort of reaction. “Very well. Where is this workroom?”

Once he had escorted Dawson to his proper place in his workroom, Severus returned to Harry and sat beside him. Harry immediately curled around him and rested his head on his shoulder. Unable to find words, Severus attempted to calm his nerves by running his fingers through Harry's hair, taking comfort in feeling the soft strands between his fingers.

“Is Teddy still here?” Harry asked.

“No,” Severus replied. “Andromeda came to get him while Dawson was examining you.”

“Good,” Harry said. “I don't want him catching whatever I have.”

Severus pressed his lips to the top of Harry’s head. “I’ve already told Blaise I wouldn’t be in this week.”

“A week?” Harry asked with a weak smile. “You’re already putting me out of commission for an entire week?”

“It won’t hurt,” Severus said. “And if you do miraculously recover tomorrow, I can use the remaining time to sip tea and recover my poor, weak old heart from the shock of seeing you nearly fall from your broom.”

Harry laughed, but it quickly turned into a yawn. “Sorry, Severus. I’m wiped.”

“You should sleep,” Severus said. “Dawson likely won’t have the results for hours.”

Harry nodded. Already his eyes were flickering closed. “Don’t leave?” he mumbled.

Severus carefully adjusted the pillows behind Harry’s head and pulled the blankets tightly around him. “I never could.”

~*~

  
The sun was already setting and Severus was beginning to wonder if he should make some soup for Harry when Dawson returned. Severus was immediately on edge. There was something in Dawson’s stance that made him think that all was not well.

Harry, who had already been stirring, sat up fully in bed with the sound of the door opening. Upon seeing Dawson, he reached for Severus’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

Dawson appeared to avoid eye contact with Severus. “Mister Potter, rumour has it you have no living family. Is that correct?”

“I have Severus,” Harry said, glancing up at him.

“But do you have any blood relatives?” Dawson asked.

“I have an aunt and a cousin, but I haven’t seen either of them in years,” Harry said. “Severus is really my only family now. Why?”

Dawson sighed. “Mister Potter, my tests have indicated that you have Sadier’s Syndrome.”

Severus felt all the air rush out of his lungs. Of course. Harry’s symptoms were practically textbook. Severus wanted to kick himself for not realizing it sooner – although, truthfully, it likely wouldn’t have made much more of a difference. That fact alone made him nauseated.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked.

“Sadier’s Syndrome is a genetic Wizarding disease,” Dawson explained. “Are you aware of Wizarding biology?”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry.”

“No matter,” Dawson said. “Like Muggles, Wizards have red and white blood cells. The red blood cells help transport oxygen throughout the body and get rid of carbon dioxide, and the white protect the body from viruses and bacteria. But wizards have another type of blood cells – magic blood cells. It is why a wizard can, with the flick of a wand, combined with a spoken or mental incantation, make an object float, whereas a Muggle, wielding the same wand and speaking the same incantation, will never succeed.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. So something’s wrong with my blood cells?”

“Yes,” said Dawson. “Normally, in wizards these three blood cell types interact in perfect unison. For those who have Sadier’s Syndrome, the body stops recognizing these magic blood cells as part of the natural system and instead views them as foreign bacteria, and attacks them. Which, in short, wreaks all sorts of havoc on your body, and your immune system in particular. A common cold could become fatal.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, is there a cure?”

“There is,” Dawson said carefully. Severus noticed now that he was _definitely_ avoiding making eye contact with him. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure you would be able to benefit from it.”

“Why not?” Harry asked. “What is it?”

“It requires brewing a potion that includes blood willingly given by a close relative, ideally a parent, but a sibling would suffice. Magic, as you know, entails a great deal of symbolism and focuses on intent. The inclusion of blood from a relative to save the life of the patient parallels all three blood cell types, a family of their own, working together once more for the betterment of the body they serve.”

“Unfortunately, we have neither sibling nor parent at our disposal,” Severus bit out.

“We’ve made great breakthroughs with this treatment,” Dawson said. “Now we believe an aunt or uncle can be nearly as successful.”

Harry snorted. “I can’t really see Petunia willingly offering up her blood for me. Hell, I’m pretty sure she’d fight it even if she was in a Full-Body Bind. So, what happens if I don’t get this potion?”

Dawson frowned. “The prognosis for untreated Sadier’s Syndrome is bleak. Your body will grow progressively weaker quite rapidly, as the blood cells have to work much more aggressively to accomplish their tasks. Generally speaking, once the individual starts showing symptoms, he has approximately one month to live.”

“One month?” Harry exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Dawson said. “I take it you don’t know if anybody in your family had it?”

“His mother did,” Severus answered. He still remembered the odd bruises that marred Lily’s legs her fourth year. He had marched her to the infirmary, where Pomfrey had quickly diagnosed her with Sadier’s. But Lily had been lucky. “Her mother offered her the blood necessary for the cure.”

“Interesting,” murmured Dawson. “Well, Mister Potter, I would advise you attempt to reach out to your aunt. The potion is not overly complicated to brew, but it’s always better to do these things sooner rather than later. Of course, I would recommend you come to St. Mungo’s, where we can care for you around the clock.”

“No,” Harry said immediately. “I want to be at home, with Severus.”

“Very well,” Dawson said. “I know Mister Snape does have a fairly extensive medical background. I can give you some potions that will at least relieve the symptoms you’re experiencing.”

“You may leave your suggestions here, and I will review them and brew them how I see fit,” Severus said. “And then I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

“I understand what you’re going through,” Dawson said, scribbling on a piece of parchment. “Believe me, I realize this is difficult. Please know that I am always a fire-call away if you need anything at all.”

Severus snatched the parchment from Dawson. “We’ll be certain to do that,” he snapped. “Now get out.”

“Now, don’t do anything rash,” Dawson said, packing up his bag. “We can always hope. Perhaps you are underestimating this Petunia.”

“Out, Mister Dawson!” Severus ordered.

“Going,” Dawson said with a wave. “But seriously, please let me know if you need anything. I’ll check in with you in a couple of days.”

Severus raised his wand, and a second later the door was slamming shut behind Dawson. Heaving a deep sigh, he turned to Harry. He wanted so badly to say that everything would work out, or that he would be with him the entire time, but he found every muscle in his body was frozen. How could he be expected to come up with words at a time like this?

“So, what are we going to do?” Harry asked.

Severus frowned. “You sound rather chipper, all things considered.”

“Well, I just figured once you already knew what the disease was that you were already plotting how you were going to brew the cure without needing a relative’s blood,” Harry said. “Do you have any ideas?”

Severus closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to see Harry’s face, so full of hope and trust. Severus had always felt a burst of pride that Harry believed he was the most intelligent man he ever knew, and, moreover, that he viewed him as his protector. But now, when faced with something actually significant, and Harry was looking at him expecting him to save his life, and Severus couldn’t do a damn thing about it … Severus was used to feeling inadequate about his appearance, his age, and his general suitability for Harry. But in his role as Harry’s protector? That was the one area in which Severus had always felt completely confident. Until now.

“Severus?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know if there’s anything I can do,” Severus whispered. “Harry, I wish to Merlin I could say it was only a case of substituting a few ingredients or changing the cauldron type, but it’s not. There have been so many studies done … and I’ll try, Harry, I swear I’ll try, but I don’t know …”

“Oh,” Harry said very softly. He appeared to have shrunk into the bed. “Oh, well, that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Severus said, now pacing the room. “There’s not a damn thing that’s okay about this.”

“Severus,” Harry said.

Severus wanted to be sick. How fucking selfish could he be? Harry was the one who had just learned he could … that he had a poor prognosis, and Severus was the one flying off the handle. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“I want to be in our room,” Harry said. “Please. I can’t stand it in here right now.”

Severus nodded. Gently, he lifted Harry out of the bed and began to carry him up the stairs to their bedroom. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Hold me?” Harry asked.

Severus set Harry back in bed and joined him next to him, wrapping the covers around them. He pulled Harry close to him, sighing slightly when Harry nuzzled his head into his shoulder. “Always,” he said.

They never said a word. It was hours before Harry’s breathing slowed, and even hours longer before Severus could feel sleep overtaking him. But the important thing was that they were holding each other.

~*~

  
Severus thought, upon hearing Harry's diagnosis, his world would flip upside down. But really, it was more like it was simply off-kilter.

He still brewed potions, only at home instead of at his apothecary. The potions he was brewing weren't all that much different than his usual medical fare – he frequently brewed the same potions for St. Mungo's that he was now brewing for Harry. And as long as Harry took his potions regularly, he was able to move about as he normally did, so it was just as though he were home for an extended holiday.

It was only when he heard Dawson's voice in his head saying "one month" that Severus felt all the air leave his lungs, and he felt heavy waves of inadequacy crashing down on him. And, unfortunately, that voice seemed to appear more and more frequently as the days wore on.

It was _time_. _Time_ was the issue. Severus was certain if he’d only had more of it he could have discovered a way to alter the potion so it didn’t require familial blood to be effective. That was what drove him the maddest. He had _known_ there was a chance Harry would come down with the disease. He had seen Lily go through it. If he had only _thought_ , just for one minute, then he could have adjusted the potion years ago, free of the distracting echo of “one month” in his head.

When Severus looked at Harry, the guilt of it nearly overwhelmed him.

Harry, for his part, seemed to believe that once again his sheer dumb luck would pull him through, and that the illness would simply melt away. “I survived Voldemort,” he said with a laugh once, “I don’t think some stupid disease is going to do me in.”

Some stupid disease. Some stupid disease that had a simple cure, so long as one had a living family. Severus found it a rather cruel joke for the world to play upon Harry.

Upon the both of them.

“I invited Ron and Hermione to come by tomorrow,” Harry said over supper, an entirely normal meal of stuffed chicken. “I figured it was time I finally tell them what Dawson said. Hermione might have some ideas.”

Severus felt his stomach clench in the same way it did every time Harry talked as though Sadier’s Syndrome was simply a bad cold. He didn’t want to crush Harry’s hope, to bring him down to the same fog he was struggling through, but at the same time, hearing it was like twisting a dagger in his stomach.

“Oh?” he said. He popped an entirely tasteless string bean into his mouth. “Well, I suppose I can do some more work in the workroom while they’re here so you can have some privacy.”

“You know I don’t mind you being around when they’re over,” Harry said. “And you’ve been spending so much time in your workroom lately. It would be nice to see some more of you.”

“My apologies,” Severus said stiffly. “I’ve been brewing your potions.”

“I know,” Harry said. “But sometimes I feel the only time I see you is when you’re telling me to drink some vile potion.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Severus said, aware that his voice was rising but unable to stop it. “Those _vile potions_ are the only things that are allowing you to function semi-normally.”

“And for what?” Harry exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table. “So I can sit in bed and read? Or walk around the parlour, wondering if you’re going to make an appearance, or, Merlin forbid, eye contact?”

“I make eye contact,” Severus retorted. “I believe I’m staring at you right now.”

“Finally!” Harry said. “You’ve been tiptoeing around so much, looking at me as if I’m about to break into a million pieces if you so much as touch me. I’m not weak, you know. I’m – ”

“You’re dying, Harry!” Severus shouted.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Harry snapped. “Merlin, Severus, don’t you think that’s the only thought running through my head these days? At least the last time I died it was on my own terms. Now I’m just waiting and wondering when it’s going to strike, if I’m going to be in bed or at breakfast or alone and I just want to fucking _be_ with you, Severus, and you’re never there!”

“Harry,” Severus said, much more gently this time. He rose and took Harry in his arms, dismayed by the way he was shaking. “You must know by now that I am … unaccustomed to the niceties of being in a relationship. This recent development has been especially difficult. If I have done anything to hurt you, you must know I didn’t mean it. I’m only trying to cope the best way I know how.”

“I know that,” Harry said into Severus’s chest. “But I don’t know how to cope either. I just want you around for when I figure it out.”

“I didn’t mean to avoid you,” Severus said. “I just can’t but feel I’m somewhat to blame.”

“For telling me weeks before I nearly fell off my broom that I should see a Healer?” Harry said with a snort. “Severus, none of this is your fault.”

Severus sighed. He would have to disagree, but he knew Harry was both stubborn enough and protective enough of Severus’s honour that he would never concede. “What is it you want, Harry? You have to know I would do anything in my power to make you happy.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Harry said immediately. “And not all soft and gentle. I want you to fuck me hard, like you mean it, like I’m alive and you’re not going to let anybody else tell you otherwise.”

Severus groaned. “Harry.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Harry repeated. He palmed the front of Severus’s robes for emphasis. “Now.”

Feeling himself harden, Severus nodded. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“No,” said Harry. He began pulling at Severus’s robes, and in a second they were on the floor. “I’m sick of that bed. We’re going to do right here.”

Severus tugged Harry’s jumper over his head and made quick work of undoing his flies. “You think a lot of my stamina,” he muttered. “Have you forgotten that I’m significantly older than you are?”

“But you’re still alive too,” Harry said, gasping when Severus wrapped a hand around his cock. “Fuck, Severus, you feel so good.”

Severus backed Harry against the wall and kissed him hard, taking heady joy in the feeling of Harry’s lips moving against his own. Fuck, how could he have forgotten that this was _Harry_? Harry was the strongest, most powerful man he knew, and no blasted illness was going to change that. His Harry was a fighter, and somehow, he _would_ get through this, because that’s just what he did and Severus wouldn’t allow for anything else to happen. At that moment it wasn’t wishful thinking. It was the honest truth and a vow and Severus was going to abide by it even if it killed him.

“Merlin, Severus, I’m so fucking hard,” Harry said. “Been wanting you for days.”

“Only days?” Severus asked with a smirk. He Summoned a phial of oil and began stretching Harry’s hole.

“Well, I always want you,” Harry panted. His hips were moving freely now as he roughly fisted his cock. “But it’s been days since I’ve had you.”

“A grievous error on my part,” Severus said. “I do hope I’ll be able to properly make it up to you.”

Harry cried out as Severus’s finger rubbed against his prostate. “Forgiven!” he gasped. “Again, Severus.”

Severus thrust his fingers in again. “Imagine my cock,” he murmured into Harry’s ear. “Imagine my cock pounding in and out of you, harder and harder until you come all over your chest.”

“Fuck, Severus,” Harry said. “Do it. Please.”

Severus trapped Harry’s mouth in another passionate kiss, all while manoeuvring him until he was pushed up against the table. Harry immediately wrapped his legs around Severus, his feet digging into the small of his back. Unable to hold back another minute, Severus found Harry’s entrance and slowly pushed his cock in.

“Yes,” Harry hissed. “Oh, yes, Severus, this is what I wanted.”

Severus paused, taking a moment to catch his breath. Even the few days away from Harry had been too long. How could he bear to be away from this exquisite tightness, this warm heat clenching his cock that was distinctly _Harry_? He felt he was about to come and he hadn’t even begun to thrust yet.

“You’re incredible,” Severus whispered, and leaned down to kiss Harry. His back would be sore as blazes tomorrow but it would be worth it.

Harry smiled. “I love you, too,” he said, reaching up to caress Severus’s face. “Now put your back into it and fuck me.”

Severus smirked and slowly worked his hips. “Like that?”

Harry groaned. “Fuck, yes.”

They didn’t last long. For a couple used to shagging every day, even a short hiatus felt like an eternity. Severus’s slow, even rhythm had soon picked up an almost frantic tempo, spurred on by Harry’s moans and shouts. At one point Severus heard a plate fall from the table and shatter on the floor, but he paid it no heed. The only thing that was important at this moment was right in front of him, gasping and gazing up at him as if he were the most amazing thing in the world.

“Fuck, Severus,” Harry panted. “Gonna come.”

“Do it,” Severus said, and pounded in again in a way he knew directly hit Harry’s prostate. He was rewarded with a sharp cry. “I want to see you come. Wank yourself for me.”

“Yes, Severus, yes!” Harry shouted. Severus felt his cheeks clench around his prick, and a second later Harry came in great spurts that splattered upon his chest. Gasping, Severus thrust in one final time and allowed his climax to overtake him.

Harry chuckled and pushed himself up into a seated position, keeping his legs wrapped around Severus. “Thank you,” he said, pulling Severus’s face down for a kiss. “That was perfect.”

“Hmm,” Severus said. “I believe I’m the one who should be thanking you. Who knows how long I would have been wallowing in my cloud of self-pity?”

“It’s not self-pity,” Harry said. “It’s a shock, and you needed time to adjust.”

Severus let out a disbelieving laugh. “How is it you’re the reasonable one in this situation? Shouldn’t I be reassuring you?”

Harry smiled up at him. “You just needed a little reminding, is all. I told you we’re going to have a long life together. This? This is just a bump in the road. And if you think I’m just going to give up without a fight, then you have another thing coming. I’m not about to let Sadier’s get in the way of our life together. And if it does take me down, I’m going kicking and screaming. I’m not just going to disappear into the mist.”

Severus shook his head in wonder. “You are, without a doubt, the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

“Funny, I could say the same thing about you,” Harry said. He stretched his legs out. “Okay, I’ll admit it. Now I’m a little sore and wouldn’t be entirely opposed to bed.”

Severus laughed and pulled Harry to his feet. Harry was right. This didn’t change anything. The odds were certainly stacked against them, but that made no difference in the past, and it wasn’t about to make a difference now.

~*~

  
They established a rhythm, of sorts. Severus always waited until Harry was awake in the morning before he went about his day. He would brew the potions of necessity in the morning while Harry got ready, and then they would come together for lunch. Ron and Hermione would visit about every third day in the afternoon, and on those days Severus would feverishly work in his workroom, desperate for a way to make a potion that could save Harry’s life. They always came back together for supper, and in the evenings would shag like randy teenagers.

It wasn’t the life Severus had wanted for them. Each wince Harry made when he thought Severus wasn’t looking, each time he saw him collapsed on the couch in a dead sleep at two in the afternoon, each light purple bruise upon his skin reminded Severus that their time together had the potential of being all too brief.

Harry, for his part, was continuing to put up a good fight. He tried as much as possible to carry on as he normally did, even though Severus could tell he was growing restless being confined to the house. He was Severus’s greatest supporter, always reassuring him that he was sure the potion was just one ingredient away from being a success.

He talked about their holiday in Thailand.

Harry was Severus’s beacon. Even on the days when Severus found it difficult to put aside the crushing fear that all their efforts would be for naught, Harry refused to give up hope. Severus knew that no matter what happened, he would remember Harry like this: strong, determined, and confident, even in the face of an invisible assailant.

It was why, even when aware of how they were practically living on borrowed time, Severus was so shocked when Harry collapsed over lunch. Dawson arrived almost immediately, alerted by a monitor charm he had placed upon Harry, to find Severus frantically checking for a pulse.

A disturbingly long examination later, Dawson’s face was grim. Severus couldn’t bring himself to ask the question, but he clearly already knew what was on his mind.

“The usual potions are no longer helping,” Dawson said. He handed Severus a large phial filled with a lavender potion. “This is a much more powerful potion that should help ease the worst of it. Have him take a third of it every other day.”

Severus frowned and set the phial on the bedside table. “And after that?”

Dawson sighed. “Mister Snape,” he said gently, “It is highly unlikely that will be a problem. But if it is, I assure you I will bring over another phial.”

Severus felt his heart stop. How had time gotten away from them so quickly? Yes, he was aware of the days and weeks passing, but those were just arbitrary markers of time. He somehow expected the actual _concept_ of time, the meaningful part, the part that played a role in whether Harry lived or died, to somehow stop before they reached this point.

Merlin, all that time _wasted_. And now he had a week left with Harry, who appeared to be more peacefully asleep than he ever was at night and with a pallor that reminded Severus of a corpse. If he’d only had more _time_ , the things he would have done differently.

Fuck, what he wouldn’t give for one more day with a happy, healthy Harry. He’d take him to Thailand and blow him on the beach. Hell, he’d take him anywhere in the world he wanted, as long as he got to see that special smile just one more time. Severus had always thought he would never be able to get enough of that smile, and now he knew he never would.

“Mister Snape, are you alright?”

Severus shook himself out of his thoughts. “Perfectly, Healer Dawson,” he said. His voice sounded tight, even to his own ears, but Dawson was wise enough not to comment.

“I take it there has been no progress with his aunt?” Dawson asked.

Severus shook his head. The one time he had suggested contacting Petunia, Harry had cut him off and insisted they didn’t need her. “No. We’ve been hoping to find an alternative method.”

Dawson gave him a rather pitying smile. “I understand this is a difficult time for you. You should know that St. Mungo’s does offer exceptional grief counselling should you need it. And here,” he said, handing Severus another phial. “This should help calm your nerves.”

“Thank you,” Severus said shortly. “Would you mind leaving now? I would prefer to be alone with Harry.”

Severus waited until he heard the whoosh of the Floo before he hurled the phial against the wall. The potion left a nauseatingly sweet aroma in the room that smelled suspiciously like lilies.

Shaking, he crawled into bed. He thought, perhaps, he would cry. He hadn’t done so since hearing Harry’s diagnosis, and he thought tonight of all nights deserved a tear or two. But he was so exhausted that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than wrap his arms around Harry, rest his head on his chest, and listen to the still-steady sound of his heart beating.

~*~

  
Severus woke to the feel of Harry’s soft lips moving against his own. He held onto Harry tightly, afraid that if he opened his eyes Harry would disappear like a night’s dream.

“Severus,” Harry whispered urgently. “Wake up.”

“I’m awake,” Severus mumbled, nuzzling Harry’s neck.

“Come on, _really_ awake,” Harry insisted.

Severus forced himself to open his eyes. Sweet, aching relief filled his chest at the familiar sight of Harry sprawled across his chest, playing with his hair. What would it be like to wake up without that warm weight on top of him?

“What is it?” he asked. “Do you feel ill?”

Harry shook his head and tugged him out of bed. “I feel fantastic. And I know what you’re going to say, but I do.”

“As long as you aren’t in pain, you won’t find me protesting,” Severus said. “And why the devil are you putting on your shoes? The sun’s not even up yet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Harry said, hopping into his trainers. “I woke up with this feeling that today was going to be a big day. And so I want to watch the sun rise. And I want you to be with me.”

Severus raised a brow but reached for his boots on the floor. “You hate waking up early. Normally I have to kick you out of bed for work.”

“This is different,” Harry said. “It’s practically symbolic. Now hurry up.”

“I’m hurrying,” Severus said. “It’s going to be chilly out. You should wear something over your clothes. Dawson doesn’t even want you going outside.”

Harry sighed impatiently. “Fine. I’ll give you three minutes and then I’m coming back after you.”

When Severus made his way downstairs, Harry was tucking something into the pocket of his heavy cloak and holding out a cloak for Severus as well. “If I have to wear one, you do too,” he said.

Severus barely had a chance to drape his cloak over his shoulders before Harry was dragging him out the door. There was something about Harry’s urgency that unnerved him. Harry hadn’t had this much energy since he had started to fall ill. To see him bursting at the seams to see the sun rise of all things was somewhat unnerving. Severus had heard legends that some people with terminal illnesses had a moment of utter lucidity shortly before passing. He dearly hoped that wasn’t the case here, and that Harry was simply speaking the truth when he said he woke up feeling this was going to be a big day.

“Here,” Harry said, stopping at a familiar grove just behind their house. The two of them would frequently take their lunches there on warmer days in the summer, and had made love beneath the trees more than once. Harry in particular loved that spot, saying its cosiness made it feel like a secluded home within a home.

Severus sat in his usual spot and pulled Harry close to him. “And now what are we supposed to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “I’ve never actually watched the sun come up before. It just seemed appropriate.”

“Indeed.”

They sat together quietly for a long while, the only sound the occasional chirping of birds in the branches above them. Severus had to admit, while he at first thought Harry mad for dragging them out of bed at such an early hour, it was rather peaceful being out here at dawn. At that moment there wasn’t any illness. There was just Severus and Harry together, waiting for the sun to come up.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Harry said suddenly. “You’ve just been brilliant through all of this.”

And just like that, the moment shattered.

“Harry,” Severus said. “No thanks are necessary.”

“It is,” Harry insisted. “Severus, you gave me so much courage. Every time I looked at you, I just remembered why I needed to keep fighting.”

Severus frowned. “I’m only doing what any man would do in this situation.”

“No, not every man would do it,” Harry said. He squeezed Severus’s arm. “And that’s why I love you.”

Those words usually brought a lightness to Severus’s entire being, but today they made his chest clench painfully. He felt an irrational urge to count the number of times Harry told him he loved him between now and whenever the end came, as though quantifying them would make them more real and thus easier to hold on to in his days without Harry.

“I love you, too,” he bit out.

Harry kissed his cheek. “I know this is hard on you. I just want you to know that had the roles been reversed, I would have tried to be just as supportive to you as you are to me.”

Merlin, how Severus wished it _had_ been him instead of Harry. Harry was still so young, practically a baby in Wizarding terms. He had at least a century ahead of him, years he could spend fulfilling all his dreams. Severus doubted he himself would live that long. The years as a Death Eater had not been kind to his health. He would still feel cheated out of time he could have spent with Harry, but at least Harry wouldn’t be cheated out of a life.

“Severus?” Harry whispered. “Are you alright?”

Severus shook his head. Wordlessly, Harry turned him towards him, practically taking him in his lap, and pulled Severus’s head down onto his shoulder.

“Harry,” he breathed.

“Shh,” Harry said. “I know.”

Severus wasn’t sure how long they stayed together in that position but, by the time he felt strong enough to raise his head, the sun was shining and the birds were singing much more boisterously.

“We missed the sunrise,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “I was with you when the sun came up. That’s all I really wanted anyway.”

Severus kissed him. “You truly are a … magnificent person, Harry.”

“Magnificent, huh?” Harry said with a soft smile. “I should have dragged you out of bed to watch the sun come up more often.”

“Brat,” Severus said.

Harry laughed and stretched his arms. “It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day. Perfect flying weather.”

Severus frowned at the wistful lilt in Harry’s voice. Flying was another one of Dawson’s forbidden activities. For one, it was outside, where there was a much higher number of germs and bacteria they had less control over. And secondly, it was too risky for Harry in his weakened state to be balancing on a thin piece of wood so high off the ground. Severus hadn’t objected to Dawson’s proclamation.

But now …

Harry loved flying, and the last time he was on a broom he nearly fell off it. It was the day he learned of his illness.

If it did happen … if the miracle Harry was still expecting and Severus was still hoping against hope for didn’t happen … that would be Harry’s last memories of one of his favourite activities.

Suddenly, Severus’s decision was not difficult to make.

“ _Accio Firebolt_ ,” he said, and a moment later Harry’s broom was in his hand.

“Severus, what are you doing?” Harry asked, wide-eyed.

“What does it look like?” Severus asked, and mounted the broom. “We’re going flying. Now are you going to hop on or not?”

“But you hate flying!” Harry said.

“I do,” Severus acknowledged. “But today, I’m willing to make an exception. I suggest you take me up on my offer before my generosity wears thin.”

Harry was still eyeing the broom with ill-disguised want. “I should probably ride behind you. It’s safer.”

“It would be,” Severus conceded. “But wouldn’t you rather have the feeling of flying? I can hold onto you well enough from behind.”

“That would be brilliant,” Harry breathed, and nearly tripped over himself getting on the broom. He got himself positioned, and Severus extended his arms so they covered Harry’s. “Let’s go.”

Severus didn’t like flying. He could never get over the feeling that the only thing keeping him in the air was a charmed twig. It was all too disconcerting to be comfortable. The rush Harry claimed he got from a dive or speeding around in circles only gave Severus anxiety.

But now, holding onto Harry and hearing his exclamations of joy as the air surged around them, Severus made a promise to himself that he would fly more often. No matter what happened, Harry deserved that much.

When Severus could feel Harry’s body tensing with the effort to remain on the broom, he slowly lowered them to the ground. His feet had scarcely touched grass when Harry had grabbed him and caught him in a rough kiss.

“Thank you,” Harry said, finally stopping to catch his breath. “Thank you.”

“Harry,” Severus gasped.

“I love you so much,” Harry said, and began tugging at Severus’s clothing. “Please … here, in our place, under the trees.”

“Harry,” Severus protested weakly, cupping his face with his hands. He knew he would never be able to resist. Not with Harry like this.

Harry reached into his pocket and handed Severus a phial of lubricant. “Thought we might need this. Never say I don’t plan ahead.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Severus said, and trapped Harry’s lips in another passionate kiss.

Somehow, they found themselves naked and rubbing against each other beneath the trees. Severus fought to move slowly, desiring to remember every inch of Harry. He paid extra care to each nipple, noting each tiny bump in the areola, and made sure he kissed each freckle adorning Harry’s body. He memorized the feel of the long vein running down Harry’s prick and relished the sight of Harry arching his back into Severus’s touch. And when he finally pushed his cock into Harry’s hole, he committed to memory the sound of Harry’s moans and cries and the way he called out Severus’s name in his climax.

“Brilliant,” Harry said a short time later. He smiled up at Severus. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“Hmm,” Severus said. He traced Harry’s scar on his forehead. He knew he could repeat the motion with his eyes closed, but he wanted to practice it as much as possible on the real thing while he could. “I’m certain Dawson would not be so pleased.”

“Dawson can fuck himself,” Harry said happily.

Severus snorted. “Be that as it may, it’s still early in April and even I’m rather chilly being out here in the nude.”

“Spoilsport,” Harry said, but he stood up and began dressing himself.

Severus finished dressing himself and then picked up Harry’s cloak and draped it over his shoulders. “I love you,” he said solemnly.

Harry pressed his lips against his. “There was never any doubt in my mind. Now, how about some breakfast?”

They made their way back to the house, hand in hand. Severus felt impossibly light. Perhaps Harry was right and a miracle would pull through. Stranger things had happened.

“The post is here,” he said when they reached the front door. “I hadn’t noticed it. We get Muggle post so infrequently.”

Harry eagerly opened the letterbox and pulled out the post. There was only one envelope inside. Harry took one look at it and his shoulders stiffened. Not saying a word, he shoved the envelope into his pocket.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

Harry turned to face him. For the first time since the diagnosis, he looked entirely broken. Severus only got the briefest glimpse of it before Harry pulled him down into a fierce, possessive kiss.

“I need to lie down for a minute,” Harry said upon releasing him. “Would you mind making breakfast? Maybe eggs?” He gave Severus one last quick kiss and disappeared into the house.

Twenty minutes later, when Severus went to tell him his eggs were ready, Harry was unconscious.

~*~

  
Severus had to pinch himself, he was so convinced he was walking about in a dream. How could he go from having such a blissfully peaceful morning to having Dawson looking at him with such infuriating pity in his eyes as he asked him if the “arrangements” were all in place? How the hell was Severus supposed to _arrange_ anything, anyhow? The issues of a will and where to hold a funeral, yes, those were simple enough to arrange. But how was Severus supposed to _arrange_ for a lifetime of solitude after being spoiled with six years of Harry?

Although he selfishly wanted to keep Harry all to himself for the last few days, he invited Ron and Hermione over to say their goodbyes. He knew it’s what Harry would have wanted … and it gave him a chance to pace the house without feeling he was abandoning him.

Severus wondered if he’d be able to remain at the house after Harry passed. They had purchased it together after a year of going back and forth between their flats, and it was so distinctly Harry that Severus couldn’t imagine living in it alone, at least not without feeling sharp pangs of loss. And yet, at the same time, to leave it behind would be truly saying goodbye to Harry forever, something Severus was not prepared to do just yet, if ever.

Carefully, Severus carried the cloak he had found on the floor beside Harry and hung it on the coat rack. A slight crinkling sound reminded him of the letter Harry had stuffed in his pocket earlier. Curious, Severus dug into the pocket and retrieved the letter.

It was addressed to Petunia Dursley, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Scrawled over the address in large red letters were the words “RETURN TO SENDER!”

Severus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He hadn’t realized Harry had actually reached out to Petunia. It wasn’t like Harry to keep secrets from him. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the piece of stationery inside. Harry’s familiar handwriting greeted him.

> Dear Aunt Petunia,
> 
> I hope all is well and you are preparing for a joyous Easter celebration. Dudley mentioned in his last Christmas card that he was expecting his first child in January, and so I’m sure congratulations are in order. I’m sure grandparenthood agrees with you and Uncle Vernon.
> 
> I realize it’s been quite some time since we’ve spoken, but I’m writing with a large favour to ask. I’ve recently been diagnosed with Sadier’s Syndrome, which is a genetic condition I’m told my mum had as well. There is a cure for it, but it requires the blood of a close relative. (Not a lot of blood – you don’t have to worry about being drained dry or anything.) I’ve been told that without this potion, I’ll have only about two more weeks to live.
> 
> It’s not that I’m afraid to die. I’m not. It’s just that I don’t want to. I’m happy. I have wonderful friends. I love my job. And, most importantly, I’m in a committed relationship with the most incredible man I know. I’m sure you don’t approve of two men being together, and that’s fine. I’m not looking for anybody’s blessing. But I love Severus. I know when you were children you didn’t like him, but he was good friends with my mum. That might not mean much to you, but I just thought you should know that he loved her, and she him.
> 
> I know this is asking a lot. We’ve never had a great relationship, and a part of me thinks I’m absolutely mad for even asking you for help. But when I think about all I have to lose, I can’t not ask.
> 
> You didn’t have to take me in all those years ago, but you did. And this … I know it’s a lot to ask you to save my life, but I cannot even begin to tell you how much I would appreciate it. I know you loved my mum, and she loved you, so if you can’t do it for me, then do it for your sister. And for your sister’s best friend, who has already suffered so much in this life. I don’t want to leave him alone.
> 
> That’s all for now, I guess. If you are at all inclined to help, please write back and I’ll start making the arrangements. I used the normal post because I thought you’d be more comfortable with that. I promise to take up as little of your time as possible. I just want this life so much, Aunt Petunia, and what kills me the most is knowing the cure is so close and yet just out of reach.
> 
> Please.
> 
> Most sincerely yours,  
> Harry

  
By the time Severus finished reading the letter, his hands were shaking with rage. Even at his sickest, Harry had resisted showing any signs of vulnerability, and yet he laid it all out on the page for a wretched woman who couldn’t even be damned to open up the envelope to see her own nephew was dying and begging for help. Petunia had always been vile, and he had told Lily more than once that she was better off without her, but this was a new low.

He grabbed his own cloak and ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Dawson was testing Harry’s vitals, and Ron and Hermione looked appropriately gloomy.

“I have an urgent errand to run,” he announced. “The second there is _any_ change in Harry’s condition you are to notify me immediately. Is that clear?”

Three wide-eyed faces nodded at him.

“There are spells I can use to keep Harry alive should his systems fail,” Dawson said carefully. “Only as a last resort, of course. I know he specified he wouldn’t want to be kept alive through magical means for an extended period of time.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Severus snapped. He turned to Hermione. “I trust you at least know how to produce a Patronus?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course.”

“The very second, then,” Severus said. With that, he Disapparated.

~*~

  
Privet Drive looked exactly as Severus remembered it. Perfectly ordinary houses with perfectly kept lawns for perfectly boring people. And naturally, number four was the most ordinary of them all.

Petunia answered the door almost immediately after Severus knocked. He enjoyed the look of horrified recognition that swept over her face.

“Hello, Petunia,” he said, and held out Harry’s letter. “I came to deliver your mail.”

“You,” she said. “Get out of here or I’ll call the police. My husband’s home and he’ll – ”

“Your husband’s not here,” Severus said. He was bluffing, but even without resorting to Legilimency he could tell immediately that Petunia was indeed alone. “Now I suggest you let me in, or I _assure_ you I will make quite the scene.”

Petunia’s eyes widened but she held the door open wider. “Just come in,” she hissed.

The first thing Severus did upon entering the house was to open the cupboard under the stairs. “You have a lovely home, Petunia,” he called out, slamming the door shut.

Petunia closed the front door and turned to look at him, red-faced. “Just what is it you want, Snape? I’ll have you know that I’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant a visit from any of _your_ sort.”

“That’s just it,” he said, and handed her the letter once more. “If you had read your damn letter you wouldn’t have been surprised to see me on your doorstep.”

Petunia snatched it from his hands and moved into the living room. Severus followed her and took a seat.

“We can make this very simple,” Severus said. “Or we can drag it out. I assure you, the end result will be the same.”

“Sadier’s Syndrome,” Petunia murmured. “I remembered Lily having that. She was home from school for a week. They didn’t say it was deadly.”

“That’s because she still had living family members who were willing to help her,” Severus said. “Harry has an aunt who doesn’t even read his letter begging for help.”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?” Petunia asked. “I haven’t heard from him in years, and then I get a letter from him out of the blue? It could have been anything.”

“Exactly,” Severus drawled. “That’s why typically when one receives a letter one _opens_ it.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Petunia said. “My relationship with Harry is … complicated.”

“Oh, I understand more than you think,” Severus said. “I understand you allowed your jealousy of your only sister taint your relationship with her son. I understand you treated him abysmally while he was under your care. You neglected him and treated him as your own personal servant you were content to shove under the stairs until a big, scary wizard came and warned you not to, and then you moved him only because you nearly wet your prissy white panties in fear. And I understand that now that Harry is an adult, you have washed your hands clean of him and want nothing more to do with that nasty magical business and cut off any ties you had with your sister whatsoever.”

“How dare you,” Petunia breathed. “How dare you come into my house and speak such vile things?”

“Can you deny them?” Severus shot back.

“I may not have treated Harry well,” Petunia said. “But I handled the situation the only way I knew how.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Severus said. “How remiss of me. You see, I was under the assumption you had another son, just about Harry’s age, that you _did_ manage not to starve and actually showed him a modicum of affection.”

“I did the best I could with Harry,” Petunia said. “I thought if he had no exposure to _that_ , he would lose his magical ability.”

“He’s a wizard. It doesn’t just disappear,” Severus said. “Why would you try to deny him what he was?”

“I was saving him!” Petunia exclaimed.

“By starving him?”

“Being magical got my sister killed!” Petunia said. “How could I knowingly subject her only child to that?”

“I don’t believe you,” Severus hissed. “I think you couldn’t stand the sight of Harry because he reminded you of Lily. You passed your hatred of your sister onto her son. You never would have given him any love, even if he _had_ been a Muggle.”

“I loved my sister!” Petunia shrieked. She froze, looking entirely humiliated at her outburst.

“You called her a freak and told her you wanted nothing to do with her,” Severus said. “How exactly would you call that love?”

“You don’t have siblings,” Petunia said dismissively. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might not have siblings, but Lily had a sister,” Severus said. “And Lily asked me time and time again why her sister hated her so much.”

Petunia rose and stood by the fireplace, her back to Severus. “This really is none of your business. You came to see me about Harry.”

“Harry, as much as you would like to forget it, is Lily’s son,” Severus said. “The two are inextricably intertwined, especially where you are concerned.”

“And what does that make you?” Petunia asked, whirling around. “You’re in a _relationship_ with him? I always knew you were sick, but I didn’t realize you were a paedophile as well!”

“My relationship with Harry began well after he was of age,” Severus ground out.

“But the son of your best friend?” Petunia asked incredulously. “I know you were in love with her. You were positively obsessed. It was repulsive. You worshipped the ground she walked on and then she wanted nothing to do with you. What did you decide, that since you couldn’t have your first choice you’d offer your arse up to her son?”

Severus whipped out his wand and pointed it at Petunia. “You will watch what you say, Petunia,” he whispered. “I will not tolerate you maligning Harry and Lily that way.”

Petunia shrunk in upon herself. “Well, you have to admit it sounds odd,” she sniffed.

“It might,” Severus conceded, pocketing his wand. “But really, that’s none of your business, is it?”

Petunia sighed and heaved herself into a chair. “Is he very ill? Harry?”

“He’s lost consciousness,” Severus said. Even stating it as a matter of fact, the words were difficult to utter. “They don’t think he’ll wake up if he doesn’t receive this cure.”

“I remember Lily having Sadier’s,” she said. “That man with the white beard came to the house. Dumbledore?”

Severus nodded. “I remember that as well.”

“But they didn’t ask me to help her,” Petunia said.

Severus shrugged. “Likely one of your parents volunteered to donate their blood before they thought to ask you.”

Petunia shook her head. “Don’t play me for a fool, Snape. I heard them whisper. They didn’t think I would agree to do it. They thought I hated my sister that much.”

Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. And not particularly welcome, given how anxious Severus was to return to Harry. But perhaps if he played therapist to Petunia for a few minutes she would consent. “Am I to take it their assumptions were incorrect?”

“Of course they were!” Petunia snapped. “I _loved_ Lily. She was my baby sister! How could I not?”

“I believe we already discussed that,” Severus said.

“I would have helped her,” Petunia said. Her voice was barely audible, but Severus still got the impression she was trying to convince herself of the fact. “I wasn’t always like this, you know.”

“Like what, exactly?” asked Severus.

“Cold, bitter, petty,” Petunia said with a wave of her hand. “I know it. Did you know I’ve only seen my grandson once? My daughter-in-law doesn’t want to have him around us. She thinks we’re vile and self-centred. I heard her tell Dudley so when they were here for Vernon’s birthday dinner.”

“How unfortunate,” Severus said.

“And so now it’s just me and Vernon, sitting in front of our electric fire on Privet Drive,” Petunia said. “Such a lovely life I’ve carved out for myself, isn’t it? I ran away from magic as fast as I could and into the arms of a man I knew would never allow me to be envious of it. And here I am.”

“Do you wish to leave?” Severus asked.

Petunia laughed. “I can’t leave now. This is my life. I wouldn’t know how to live otherwise.” She paused. “Do you know how I found out about Lily’s death? Harry on my doorstep with a note saying she was killed by some madman who had been after her and I needed to take care of her son. I didn’t know she was in danger. Nobody came to speak with me. Just an order and a baby left at my door.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Severus said. “You couldn’t have saved her.”

“No,” Petunia agreed. “But I could have talked to her. Do you know how many nights I thought about finally responding to one of her letters? Of going to lunch with her? We were pregnant at the same time. Don’t you think I thought of reaching out to her?”

“But you didn’t,” Severus said.

“No,” said Petunia. “And every time I looked at Harry, I remembered that.”

“You can save him,” Severus said, recognizing the opportunity. “You might not have been able to save her, and they may not have asked you for help back when Lily had Sadier’s. But Petunia. I am asking you to help Harry. Begging you. I do not do either of those acts easily.”

Petunia looked away. “Does Harry speak much of me? Of his time here?”

“Very rarely,” Severus said. “He’s told me enough, and I know he exchanges Christmas cards with your son. But he does not enjoy speaking of it, and I do not wish to put him under that stress.”

She nodded. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Yes, well,” Severus said. “Your answer, Petunia?”

Petunia stood up and began to pace about the room. After a moment, she turned back to Severus. “Won’t you stay for tea?”

“No, Petunia,” Severus said impatiently. “I’m in a bit of a hurry, what with Harry on his deathbed. Believe me, begging you for help is the _last_ place I want to be at the moment. So either say yes now so we can go about making the arrangements or say no so I can go back to Harry and be with him during his last moments in this life, you blasted, infuriating woman.”

Petunia recoiled as if slapped. Severus felt his stomach fill with dread. He shouldn’t have risked offending her. What was he going to do if she refused because of his insults?

“Fine,” Petunia said tightly. “I’ll help. But it’s for Lily. Not for you and not for Harry.”

Sweet, heady relief flooded through Severus’s body. It was a good thing he was already seated, for he was certain his legs would have given out underneath him. This was it! Harry’s miracle. And it was coming in the form of a bitter, delusional wretch of a woman.

“Thank you,” he managed to say. “Petunia, I … thank you. If there’s anything at all I can do to repay you …”

“Let’s go,” Petunia said. “I want to get this over with before Vernon gets home. I still need to prepare supper.”

Severus nodded and stood up. “You’ll feel a sharp tug,” he warned Petunia, wrapping his hand around her skinny arm. With only thoughts of getting Harry back in his mind, he Disapparated.

~*~

  
Petunia looked nauseated when they arrived. “We couldn't have driven?” she asked, swaying slightly.

“I don't have five hours to waste,” Severus said. He poured Petunia a glass of water and handed it to her. “We'll begin immediately. I already have the ingredients ready.” That was an understatement. Ever since hearing Harry's diagnosis, Severus had kept enough hellebore, powdered moonstone, and boomslang skin to make the potion ten times over carefully set aside in his workroom. He toyed with it almost constantly, trying different variations in hopes it would be effective even without the familial blood, but he always kept one set entirely pure and untainted. He'd always wondered why. At the time he thought it was just for practicality's sake – it made sense to always have the proper ingredients on hand just in case. But now he realized it was that little seed of hope he'd barely dared to give thought to.

Petunia took the glass and took a cautious sip, failing to disguise her suspicion.

“For Christ's sake, woman. I need your help. I'm hardly likely to poison you first,” Severus snapped.

She flushed and drank some more of the water. “Is it going to hurt?”

“No more than getting your blood drawn,” Severus replied. “A surprisingly little amount of blood is necessary for the potion to work. It's more the intent that's important than the actual blood.”

She nodded. “All right.”

“I'm going to check on Harry,” Severus said. “I told his friends I wouldn't be long.”

Petunia's eyes widened. “There are _more_ of you here?”

“Don't worry, we're not planning an ambush,” Severus said drily. “It's only Harry's healer and two of his close friends.”

“They can't be here,” Petunia said. “I can't ... that's too much, Snape. Get them out of here.”

Severus sighed. “Fine. I'll get rid of them. You go downstairs to my workroom,” he said, and pointed to the door. “Just sit down and don't touch anything.”

“By _myself_?” Petunia asked hysterically. “I could get killed!”

“It's only a room, Petunia,” Severus said impatiently. “So long as you don't touch anything, no harm will come to you. Now go.”

Severus waited until he saw Petunia head to the workroom before he climbed the stairs. It was exactly the same scene as when he had left -- Harry asleep, Dawson bustling about, and Ron and Hermione looking miserable. “I'd like to be alone with Harry,” Severus said. “You may return tomorrow.”

Ron's head shot up. “He's our friend, too!” he snapped. “You can't just kick us out. We have just as much a right to be with him as you do.”

Hermione placed a gentle hand on Ron's arm. “He has a right to be alone with Harry, Ron,” she said softly. “I would want to be alone with you as well. We can return in the morning.”

“Afternoon,” Severus corrected. Hermione and Ron both shot him sharp looks, but he didn't care. If this potion was a success, and he had every reason to believe it would be, he wasn't about to be awoken at the crack of dawn by those two. And if it somehow failed ... well, he wouldn't much want to see them so early either.

“Afternoon,” Hermione conceded. She stood up, and, much to Severus's surprise, gave him a hug. “You really have been wonderful to Harry. He's been so happy these past few years.”

“He's not dead yet,” Severus said, stiffly patting her back. “Don't say anything that might embarrass you later.”

Hermione snorted and pulled away. “Who can be embarrassed by the truth? We'll see you tomorrow.”

Ron, looking somewhat reluctant, clapped Severus on the shoulder and left with Hermione. Severus pointed his eyes on Dawson. “You, too,” he said.

“I only thought –”

“Out, Dawson,” Severus said. “You too may return in the afternoon.”

“But I always come by first thing in the morning,” Dawson protested.

“In the afternoon,” Severus repeated. “Now, get the hell out.”

Muttering all the while about delusional men who didn't understand the art of healing, Dawson packed up his bag and left. With a sigh, Severus headed downstairs to his workroom.

He would finally have his Harry back.

~*~

  
Severus began to methodically chop the hellebore. Normally brewing potions brought him peace and put him in a nearly meditative state, but today he was a bundle of tightly wound nerves. Every thud of the knife against the chopping board seemed to cry out Harry's name.

“Do you love Harry more than my sister?”

Severus bristled. “What kind of question is that?”

“I'm only trying to make sense of it all,” Petunia said with a shrug. “If Lily hadn't died, do you still think you'd be with her son?”

Severus heaved a sigh and set down his knife. “I don't know, Petunia,” he said honestly. “Lily and I were not on speaking terms when she died. I don't know if I would have ever met Harry. I certainly wouldn't have been teaching when Harry was in school.”

“You were his _teacher_?” Petunia shrieked.

“As I said before, nothing began between us until Harry was well into his twenties,” Severus said. “I never harbored any fantasies towards Harry while he was a student.” Well, that was only partially true, but Petunia didn't need to know that.

“But you were in love with Lily,” Petunia persisted. At Severus's inquisitive stare, she added, “I heard her and James arguing about it once. Will you deny it?”

“No,” Severus said, and returned to chopping the hellebore. “But I was a teenager.” _And had experienced precious little love._

“And you don't find it strange that you're ... _with_ the son of the woman you were in love with?” Petunia asked.

Severus was beginning to see why Harry called Petunia a terrible old gossip. She clearly wouldn't be satisfied until he gave her every detail about his love life. Ordinarily he would have refused to respond, but he felt compelled to answer. Petunia may still be the spiteful girl he had known as a young boy, but he was eternally grateful for her help. And, somehow, he could relate to her. She had lost a sister, and he a best friend, without ever being able to make amends. Who was he to judge how she handled that? He certainly wasn't going to win any prizes for his behavior over the years. He had been every bit as angry and bitter as she. Except he was lucky and had eventually found Harry. Petunia had only found Privet Drive.

“I loved Lily,” he said. “But Harry is not Lily. Harry barely knew Lily. At times I see traces of her in him, and while I do love them, it is not the reason I love him. Harry is, well, _Harry_. I will always be grateful for Lily for giving me him. But beyond that? They are two entirely separate people.”

“But when you look at him, how can you not be reminded of her? He has her eyes! I always felt she was looking at me from his face and ...” Petunia's voice trailed off. She looked embarrassed but defiant.

“For a long time, I was,” Severus said. “For years, seeing him at Hogwarts was as close to torture as one could get. He was a daily reminder of my failures and what I had lost.”

“And how did you get past that?” Petunia asked.

Severus dumped the hellebore into the cauldron. The potion bubbled enthusiastically. “I began to talk to him,” he said.

They didn’t speak again after that. Severus found his rhythm in preparing the potion. He had brewed life-saving potions before. It was all a part of the job. But this time it was personal. For the first time since Harry had fallen ill, Severus felt he was actually living up to his role as his protector. With his own hands, he was brewing a potion that would save Harry’s life. He was finally _doing_ something. Oh sure, Harry had said how much he just needed Severus by him for support, but Severus hated the feeling of helplessness he was experiencing as he watched Harry grow weaker. Finally, he felt some sort of control over this nightmare. With a pestle in his hand and a cauldron before him, he could wake the both of them up so they could go about living their normal lives once more.

“It’s time for your role,” Severus said.

Petunia stood and walked over, much as if she were headed to the guillotine. “What do you need to do?”

Severus picked up a sterilized silver knife. “Hold out your hand.” Taking it in his, he said, “Do you, Petunia Dursley, offer up your blood to your kin, Harry Potter?”

“Yes,” Petunia answered.

Severus carefully slit a line down Petunia’s palm and then held it over the cauldron. The potion hissed as the droplets of blood touched upon its surface and disappeared into its depths. When the contents of the cauldron turned a pleasant shade of gold, he lifted Petunia’s hand.

“I can heal the cut if you’d like,” he said.

Petunia shook her head and clutched her hand to her chest. “No, thank you. Is the potion ready?”

“It needs to sit for a moment,” Severus said, reaching for a phial. “But it should be ready in about ten minutes.”

She nodded. “You said Harry is unconscious?”

“Yes,” Severus said. “He has been since this morning.”

She didn’t say anything until Severus began to pour the cooled potion into the phial. “Would you mind if I came with you to give him the potion?”

Severus frowned. A selfish part of him wanted to have this moment entirely to himself. This was his victory over Sadier’s and whatever cruel fate the world had set out for him and Harry. But he couldn’t very well deny Petunia anything now. “I suppose,” he said.

They walked to Harry’s room together in silence. Severus held the door open for her and allowed her to enter. Hesitantly, she moved to the side of the bed and looked down at Harry.

“He doesn’t look so much like Lily now,” Petunia said softly. She brushed the fringe off his forehead and rubbed her fingers over his scar. Severus fought the urge to tell her to keep her hands off of him. “Nor very much like James.”

“No,” Severus agreed. “Harry has already lived a decade longer than both James and Lily. And hopefully he’ll live many decades more.” He set the phial down on the bedside table and pulled out an eyedropper from his robes. He was concerned about getting all of the potion into Harry and it seemed safer to use the eyedropper than to pour the potion down his throat.

“Wait,” Petunia said. She had been staring down at her bleeding hand, but now she looked up at Severus. “Don’t tell him.”

“Don’t tell him you helped him?” Severus asked. “Why ever not?”

“It will be better this way,” Petunia said firmly.

“You realize just before he lost consciousness, he saw you had returned his letter asking for your help unopened,” Severus said. “He’ll wake up thinking his only blood relative abandoned him in his greatest time of need.”

“And how is that any different than how he felt the day before?” Petunia said. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she spoke fiercely. “Why change things or make them more complicated?”

Severus frowned. “Petunia – ”

“I _can’t_ , Severus!” Petunia said. “It’s too much. I wouldn’t know how.”

“What do you expect me to tell him?” Severus asked. “He knows the only known cure requires familial blood.”

“Tell him you worked a miracle and made it so anybody’s blood would work,” Petunia said. “Just don’t tell him I was here.”

“Petunia, if you don’t want a relationship with Harry, he would honour that,” Severus said. “He likely wouldn’t do more than offer a sincere thank you.”

“It’s already so messy,” Petunia said, shaking her head. “Why add gratitude to the mix? Why make him think he needs to stop by for Sunday tea and pretend he can shove his childhood under the rug? Let him continue to hate me, and you can be the hero.”

Severus sighed. It was like listening to himself speak before he and Harry embarked on their relationship. He too had wondered what good would come out of Harry forming an attachment towards him. But he had surrendered quickly, lured by Harry’s warmth. Petunia was simply unwilling to take that step. Whether it was because of her own lingering feelings of guilt over her sister or her narrow-minded husband, she was never going to allow Harry into her life.

“Just give him the potion,” she bit out. “Give him the potion so I can get out of here.”

Severus nodded and parted Harry’s lips. With the utmost care, he deposited the potion into his mouth and gently massaged Harry’s neck muscles to ensure it all made its way down. He repeated the process twelve more times, until the phial was empty.

“Is that all?” Petunia asked.

“Yes,” Severus said. He was unable to look away from Harry. Perhaps it was hope tinting his vision, but he thought Harry’s cheeks had a bit of pink in them. He wanted nothing more than to wake Harry up, but he knew it was for the best to still let him sleep. They wouldn’t know anything for certain until Dawson ran his damn tests the next day anyway. But somehow, in the deepest part of Severus’s soul, he knew the potion had worked. He brushed Harry’s fringe aside and pressed his lips against his scar.

“Rather anticlimactic,” Petunia said.

“Were you expecting fireworks?” Severus asked.

“Hmph,” Petunia said. “It worked?”

“I believe so,” Severus said. Forcing himself to look away, he stood and turned to face Petunia. “I’m sure you realize there are no words to properly convey how grateful I am for your help. If there is anything you need, whether it’s now or ten years from now, please know I will do anything I can to be of service.”

Petunia nodded. “Thank you, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

“Nevertheless, you didn’t have to help but you did. It means a great deal to me.”

“Yes, fine.” Petunia looked back down at her still bloody hand.

“I can take you back home,” Severus said.

“I’ll just take a cab, thank you,” Petunia said.

“That’s easily a five hour drive,” said Severus. “You’ll never make it back before supper. Truly, it’s no trouble.”

“Thank you, but I need some time alone,” Petunia said. “Your magical methods of transportation are so fast. I’m just … not quite ready to go home yet.”

She turned on her heel and descended the stairs, holding her hand to her chest the entire time. Severus followed her quickly, only managing to catch up with her at the front door. She had wrapped her hand in a handkerchief and was holding it up to her eyes.

“Petunia,” he said. She lowered the handkerchief and he could see her eyes were red. For a brief moment he saw the young girl who cried after Dumbledore sent her a letter denying her admission to Hogwarts. He had laughed then, much to Lily’s consternation, but he felt no such mirth now. Severus took her good hand in his and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief once more and let out a loud sniff. Then, without another word, she opened the door and stepped out of the house.

Surreptitiously, Severus cast a simple monitoring charm on her. He wouldn’t chase after her, but he did want to ensure she made it home safely, whenever that was. He closed the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes in relief. This morning seemed so very long ago.

So exhausted was he that when he heard the noise, he thought he was hallucinating. But then it came again, and Severus realized that what he was hearing was indeed the most glorious sound of the word.

It was Harry. And he was calling his name.

Severus ran.

~*~

  
“Did you give me a potion?” Harry asked, smacking his lips. “I have the oddest taste in my mouth.”

Severus felt his knees buckle and took that as a sign he needed to be sitting on the bed with Harry. He was pleased when Harry immediately snuggled up to him. Severus held him close. It was a simple sign of affection, one that they had likely replicated thousands of times before, but Severus felt as though he were holding Harry for the first time. He was nearly lightheaded with the joy and relief of it.

“Yes,” he said. “I gave you a potion. I would have asked for your consent, of course, but you were unconscious. I trust you have no objections?”

“I feel like I’ve had a day at the spa,” Harry said. “How could I ob – Severus, did you manage to find a cure?”

Severus hesitated. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him Petunia had come through. He was not one to lie to Harry, and it would likely mean a great deal to him to hear his aunt hadn’t entirely abandoned him. But anonymity had been the one thing Petunia had asked for. Who was he to deny her that? Perhaps one day he’d tell Harry. Later, when it didn’t matter. Or perhaps Petunia would change her mind and wish to speak with him. Severus doubted the latter, but it was always a possibility. But for now, it was Severus’s secret to keep.

“What would you say if I did?” he asked carefully.

Harry’s face slowly broke into a wide grin. “Severus!” he exclaimed. He jumped into Severus’s lap and threw his arms around him, plastering his face with kisses. “You did it! I knew you’d figure out a way.”

Severus felt a brief stab of guilt. He couldn’t help but feel he was misleading Harry. He hadn’t come up with a way to adjust the potion to not need familial blood, as Harry seemed to think. He hadn’t done anything exceptionally brilliant.

“My hero,” Harry murmured against Severus’s ear.

“I’m no hero,” Severus said. “I only did what I had to do.”

“You weren’t about to let me die,” Harry said. “Even when all the signs were pointing towards it being the end. You have always been the one I felt the safest with. And you’ve always been the one who’d do anything to protect me. That makes you pretty damn heroic to me. And I won’t hear anything that suggests otherwise.” He pressed his lips to Severus’s. “And I’d say this hero deserves a holiday in Thailand.”

Severus felt his lips quirk into a smile. He was no fool. If Harry was going to look at him that way and call him his hero, he was not about to object. Perhaps Severus didn’t revolutionize the potion that ended up saving Harry. But he managed to convince a woman who wanted nothing to do with either of them to offer up her blood to save Harry’s life. Perhaps one gesture was grander than the other, but that made no difference. It was the end result that mattered. Harry was alive and healthy and quite warm in Severus’s arms.

“Well, we won’t know for certain until Dawson returns tomorrow afternoon,” Severus warned.

“Severus, you made the potion, and I feel incredible. I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear.”

“I can see that,” Severus said, for Harry had already tugged off his shirt and was making quick work of Severus’s robes. “Merlin, this has been the longest day.”

“Not quite the reaction I was expecting when I’m doing this,” Harry said, palming Severus’s prick through his pants.

“That’s not what I, ah, meant,” Severus gasped. “It’s only I went from thinking you had made a miraculous discovery, to thinking I had finally lost you, to – oh, Harry, yes.”

Harry smirked as he traced his tongue around Severus’s nipple. “You’ll have to tell me about today sometime. I feel like I’ve missed quite a bit.”

Severus shook his head. “I’d rather not. Harry, seeing you like that, thinking all hope was lost … it was the most terrifying day of my life.”

Harry straddled Severus’s waist and leaned down to kiss him. “I understand. Someday?”

“Perhaps,” Severus said. His hands reached to slide up and down Harry’s sides. “But for now I’d only like to think of you like this.”

“Hard and ready for you?” Harry asked with a mischievous grin.

“Alive,” Severus whispered.

Harry’s face softened and he stroked Severus’s hair. “Oh, Severus,” he breathed. “I love you too.”

From that point on, Severus pushed all thoughts of illness out of his mind. For now there was only Harry, only this, only them.

The only things that were important.

~*~

  
Severus stretched out on the beach and rested his head on his hands. He had to admit, this holiday had been just what they needed. Upon seeing how rapidly Harry was improving, Severus had made the arrangements for a fortnight in Thailand. No sooner had Dawson proclaimed Harry to be fit for travel than had Severus taken their already packed bags out of the study, grabbed Harry’s hand, and waved farewell.

So far, they had enjoyed a week of sun, beaches, and island hopping. Both of them had grown rather claustrophobic in the house during Harry’s illnesses, and the time away was doing both of them good. Harry looked happier than Severus could remember seeing him of late, and he had a feeling he too appeared similarly blissful.

“Want one?”

Severus opened his eyes to see Harry standing over him, holding out a skewer with some sort of grilled meat on it. “Did you even ask what it was?”

“Nope,” Harry answered happily. He took a bite of his own. “But it’s delicious.”

Severus snorted and took the proffered item. He had to admit that it smelled wonderful. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Harry said. He dusted the sand off his towel and stretched out on it beside Severus. “You know, I think today is my favourite day so far.”

“You’ve said that every day,” Severus said with a snort.

“Not my fault if things just keep getting better,” Harry said.

“Hmph,” Severus said. But he was pleased. It meant a great deal to him to see Harry so happy and lively after that month of hell.

“So I was thinking,” Harry said, rolling over onto his side to face Severus, “that I’m in need of a career change.”

“Oh?” Severus asked. “Planning on becoming a street vendor and selling meat on a stick?”

“Prat,” Harry laughed, flicking a bit of sand at him. “I’m serious.”

“Ah,” Severus said. “And what brought this on?”

“I can’t go through something like that month again,” Harry said. “The not knowing, seeing you so worried, _me_ being scared … it was all too much.”

“Harry, you realize you almost died from an illness and not a work-related injury, yes?”

“I know,” Harry said. “But I just feel like I’ve had enough of danger for one lifetime. I want more days like this with you.”

Severus frowned. He certainly had no objections if Harry wanted to leave his Auror career; it would probably result in fewer white hairs on his own head. But he needed to be sure it was an actual desire to try something new and not fear that was inviting this change. “Harry, I know I’ve always had a tendency to be overprotective with you. But that’s just an aspect of my personality. I would likely worry even if you were working as the librarian at Hogwarts.”

“Hmm, hadn’t thought about that,” Harry said. “We could shag in between the shelves.”

Severus snorted. “One-track mind, you.”

“Can you blame me after last night?” Harry asked, stealing a kiss. “But Hermione has been going on about starting a program for children born to Muggle parents to attend before they go to Hogwarts, as a way to give them some exposure to the magical world. I think it could be brilliant.”

“It could be,” Severus agreed. “If it’s truly what you want.”

“It is,” Harry said immediately. “I think I would really enjoy it. Besides,” he added, reaching for Severus’s hand, “I can’t see you like that again.”

“Harry, I would support you in anything you wanted to do,” Severus said.

“I know,” Harry said. “And I know you’ll always be my protector. But there’s no need to make you work overtime. Not when there’s something else even more rewarding I could be doing.” He paused. “You know, there was something that went missing after I collapsed.”

Severus froze. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. His eyes met Severus’s. “A letter.”

Severus exhaled deeply. “Harry …”

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “You don’t have to tell me. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m here. You’re here. We’re happy. And I’d like for us to continue on that way for a very long time.”

“You’re that determined to have wrinkly old man sex, are you?” Severus asked lightly. Inwardly, he was relieved Harry wasn’t pressing for details. He had expected that with time his loyalty to Petunia to diminish, that her secret would seem less important to keep. Rather, it had been the opposite. For the more time Severus spent with Harry after almost losing him, the more precious her gift seemed. And perhaps she would never know if Severus told Harry what she had done, but he wasn’t about to be so dismissive of her wishes now.

“Only if that wrinkly old man is you,” Harry said. He smiled, and Severus’s heart skipped a beat. “Now, how about a dip in the ocean?”

“You only want a hand job and don’t want to go back to our house,” Severus said with a snort.

“Well, it _is_ rather secluded here, and I happen to know that’s one of the reasons you picked it,” Harry said, reaching over to stroke Severus. “So don’t play it off like it’s just me.”

“Never,” Severus said. He stood up and took Harry’s hand and pulled him towards the water. “Well, come on then. It’s time for your afternoon rogering and the ocean awaits.”

And when they held each other in the water, laughing as they splashed about and tried to find their footing, Severus was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude towards the Evans family. To Lily, for being his first friend and showing him that love existed, and then for giving him Harry. To Petunia, for setting aside her personal demons long enough to save Harry’s life.

But most of all, for Harry, who every day showed Severus what it meant to be in love, and who gave Severus a reason to fight for each day. If there was any good that came out of Harry’s illness, it was that it reinforced in his mind just how important Harry was to his very life. And while Severus might not be able to protect him from every ill and evil that came his way, he was damn well going to do his best.

It was a mad life they lived, but it was _their_ life. And Severus would see it the entire way through.

 

 _Thanks to the human heart by which we live,_  
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,  
To me the meanest flower that blows can give  
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

 _William Wordsworth – Ode: Intimations of Immortality_  


-The End-

  
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